


Open Your Eyes

by Ro_Nordmann



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Braime Banter, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Past Character Death, Post WW2-Westeros, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Soldiers, World War II, for JailynnW, quote prompt, war injury, with some help from ilikeblue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann
Summary: Post-WW2 Westeros 1940sMajor Jaime Lannister has been dismissed from his post after peace has been settled. Nothing is awaiting him in Casterly Rock, so he runs away from his birthright as the sole heir of the Lannister Estate. His wounds run deeper than meets the eye, so he finds himself sailing to the Sapphire Isle, encountering the inscrutable Brienne of Tarth.Quote Prompt from JailynnW, with a slice of help from ilikeblue
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 87
Kudos: 108





	1. Tarth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JailynnW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/gifts), [ilikeblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeblue/gifts).



_You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly._

— **Sam Keent**

__________________________________________________

Jaime stared at the letters, all wrinkled and weathered after reading them over and over again. It would not bring his beloved back. If someone was meant to die in this godforsaken war was him, not his woman and their children. God surely had decided to punish the sinful and Jaime Lannister was found wanting as the rightful target of his godly wrath. 

Emptiness all encompassing was his sole companion. There was nothing awaiting him in the Rock, even if his father’s dying with was that his only son take the mantle of their family’s legacy and bring forth prosperity and unity in the Westerlands after the war had ended. 

Four fucking years of blood, gore, vomit and despair, but most of all death. There was only one god in war and that was the god of Death and your only hope was that today wasn’t your day. Addam, his best and only real friend had died almost at the ceasefire and signing of the peace between the Allies and the Axis. In the end it didn’t matter on which side you fought, everyone ended up feeding the crows in the fields, bloated and disfigured, nameless and forgotten. Honor and duty, country and liberty were all lies instilled in the young minds of men to ensnare them into service, like tributes to the altar of Death. 

The fountain pen felt heavy on his right hand as he tried to write a letter to his disinherited brother. His fingers twitched but didn’t cooperate. The doctor in the capital had said it would take physical therapy and patience for his hand to be “operational” once more. It might as well been blown off with mortar fire, as it was completely useless. Numbness and pain, an endless cycle that reminded him he was alive and countless soldiers under his command weren’t. They’d also said he was suffering from “shell shock” and should speak with a psychiatrist. His response had been simple, “Fuck off.” Nothing would heal his mind, take away the images of torn bodies and his friend screaming for his mother as he lay dying. The price of war was too high and no real winners in the aftermath.

The taxi was waiting for him and his things, not many treasured items, were in his suitcase. The room felt sterile of anything, only served as his dungeon of rehabilitation for a time. Jaime had said his farewells and kiss that nurse with the missing teeth with fervor. Pia had been good to him, listening to his nightmare inflicted terrors and ramblings, soothing him with her caresses and giving him comfort when he didn’t deserve it. No, he didn’t take pleasure in her body, but she did restore his dignity as a man, and not as just a breathing corpse in an assembly line of the infirm.

He managed one sentence and closed the envelope, already addressed and properly stamped. 

_Tyrion,_

_I’m sorry._

_Love, Jaime._

* * *

The ship had been harrowing, with the constant nausea and occasional bout of sickness, Jaime almost regret running away from his life and what was his birthright as a Lion of the Rock. _Fuck it all_. He’d paid his dues. He’d seen hell with eyes open wide and it had spat him out back to serve more time in this… Purgatory. With his military pension, he’d been able to purchase his boarding ticket and turn his back to Westeros. 

When picking a destination, he first thought of the Free Cities, of Braavos, Lys or Pentos. These independent city-states had been spared most of the carnage and famine of warfare. Pentos had been the place he’d suggested for Cersei and the children to hide. He would’ve found a way to meet them there and make a life with them, finally. No one would know… the Lannister name would mean nothing. They could become whatever they wanted, a true family. Cersei didn’t care about living in obscurity and forsaking her heritage, as a lioness. She cared about status and being part of a prestigious family. Her children were protected under the guise of being someone else’s progeny, as Mrs. General Robert Baratheon, from the Stormlands. He’d been killed in battle, one thing the god of Death had done right, ridding the world of that scum.

Jaime had been willing to dishonor himself for her, to leave his post and abandon his men. She’d fucked him one last time, washed his seed from her thighs and righted her hair in front of the mirror, as her green eyes glared at him: _No one will ever know. You will live and find us again, but this...is ours, Jaime. Your uncle will kill you, if he ever found out that you fucked and impregnated his only daughter. Think of your father, how this will disappoint him. You have to come back and claim Casterly Rock. Your his sole heir and life will return to normal after this war and I’ll be waiting for you. It will be as always…_

The clanking of the anchor dropping woke him from his reminiscing. The captain was giving orders to his crew, as they all scrambled around to make sure the _Just Maid_ arrived safely to harbor. 

“Major Lannister! I’ll your things ready, sir! We’ve arrived to your stop.”

Josmyn “Peck”, couldn't have been older than twelve had taken his role as his personal assistant very seriously. Jaime scowled as his eyes turned to the approaching land. The sunrise momentarily blinded him with the light bouncing off the crystalline waters of Shipbreaker Bay. His doctors would approve, thinking it as an appropriate destination for reflection and soul-searching. He’d sneer back at their condescending bullshit and bark back that this was cowardice.

“Sir! Welcome to the Sapphire Isle! We’ve been expecting you and hope you’ll find your suite hospitable.”

Another boy, one with a noticeable limp and scars noticeable on his exposed tanned arms greeted him. He wore glasses and his limbs twitched intermittently. Surely, this one had served as a soldier and found solace in this pisspot island.

The young man bowed, causing his spectacles to drop from his head. It didn’t deter him from his duties, “My name is Podrick Payne, Major Lannister. You may call me, Pod. I served under Captain Marbrand. Your bravery is legendary, sir. It is an honor to be of service. Any luggage can be carted back to Evenfall. If you please follow me we can be on our way and you’ll be treated to some local cuisine in the mess hall.” 

* * *

There were no cars in Tarth, for there were no asphalt roads. Horses and carriages, like they’d been stuck in another time. It would do fine, as he didn’t expect to be tempted to leave his room. His to do list consisted of drowning himself in scotch and wank himself to sleep every night, or try to with his inept left hand.

As a highborn, he’d taken horse riding, but having not done it in years had left him saddle sore and prickly. Pod had tried to engage him in conversation, but one meaningful glare had silenced him. The salt in the air reminded him of Casterly Rock, of his youth and Cersei. Fuck. It made him fist his hands and bring forth the lingering pain in his injured right arm. He grunted as he took deep breaths to keep his demons at bay and endure the chronic torment that afflicted him.

“Brienne! Brienne! Brienne! Please again!” 

The squeal of children startled Jaime from his contemplation. In a clearing nearby, boisterous youngsters gathered around a tall man. He could only see the back, its broad shoulders and cropped, straw-yellow hair glinting in the sunlight. 

Pod dismounted his mare, and grabbed the reins of his own horse, guiding him to the stables. His eyes lingered on the man as he proceeded to show his skills with a wooden sword. The children cheered and danced around the man. For a moment, he felt jealous of the attention and thought of his own children that he never got to hold and have them acknowledge him as their father.

“Pod… Who is that?”

Pod’s brown eyes brightened as he looked at the mayhem of Tarth’s babes around his boss. “That’s the Evenstar, Brienne of Tarth, sir. She’s the owner of the Evenhall. You’ll be sure to run into her soon enough. She served in the war, too. She’d have liked to be a soldier like the rest of us, never allowed by the high command. So, she learned to be a nurse and served in the Stormlands. She was there when Renly Baratheon died. It is said that her song was heard all over Westeros. She won’t admit it, but the old gods granted her a healing power. It is why you’re here, Major Lannister.”

As if she’d been called, Brienne’s sapphire eyes lanced through space and found his jade colored ones and for the first time Jaime felt peace and had to admit to himself that maybe Pod had been right. This Brienne had been cursed with something preternatural and he was selfish enough to want it for himself.

She hadn’t flinched as her eyes lingered on his visible scars and Jaime found comfort in that. She was more forgiving than Pia, than what he’d expect from his Cersei. _Fuck. Her eyes… the universe lived in those eyes_. His heart began to pound and he couldn’t tear himself away.

“Major Lannister? Are you ok? Do I need to find the maester? We have one here—”

He shook his head, but didn’t give him a verbal response. He dismounted, almost faceplanting before Pod intervened and saved him from disgrace. They kept walking towards the fortress, but each step he felt an ache that hadn’t been there and he was sure that her eyes hadn’t left him, a brand burning at his back. 

* * *

“BRIENNE! Teach me!”

Brienne felt a shiver and it had nothing to do with the wind. Mia was frowning at her, as her fingers pinched her skin making her gasp in pain. 

“That’s not very nice, Mia! Practice is over! You can pick your slice of bread from the kitchens. I’ll see you all tomorrow! I have to return to my duties. Be good to your mother, please!”

She left them to grumble among themselves, every step she took making her feel like butterflies had taken over her stomach. She knew there would be a newcomer to Evenfall, Major Lannister, who’d been honorably discharged from his military service after years of warfare and commendations. The scars on his face and arms were not the reason he had arrived at her shores… it was his amputated soul calling to her, like a siren searching for her sailor. With trepidation, she brushed off the dirt from her pants and strode into her home. 

_His name was Jaime._


	2. Storm's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “P-promise me something. Be brave and not close your heart. Not after this. Live for me. For all the boys that you have seen die here. Live.” Brienne leaned over him, her forehead touching his as her lips kissed him for the first and last time. When she stood over him, she closed his eyes and finally prayed like she never had before.
> 
> “I promise.”

* * *

The sound of the crashing waves and the salt in the air were more than home to Brienne Tarth. It meant that she had left behind her career in nursing serving in the aid stations close to the combat zones in Storm’s End. What she’d truly strived for was to be accepted as another soldier and joined the fighting against the Targaryen Realm. A uprising regime that intended to re-establish the monarchy and condone the genocide of thousands of innocents within the Seven Nations that used to be known as the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

Selwyn Tarth had allowed his only daughter to be shipped off to the Stormlands and take care of the Baratheon soldiers stationed there to protect the region. It was here that she met Captain Renly Baratheon, the youngest of the Baratheon’s brothers triumvirate. The oldest brother, Gen. Stannis Baratheon had moved his troops closer to Dragonstone to protect the capital from incoming attacks by using his naval infantry. As for the middle brother, Lt. Gen. Robert Baratheon, his assigned regiment suffered many casualties defending the Kingsroad and the Trident.

Brienne had been stationed near Storm’s End and that’s where she crossed paths with the handsome captain, with dark curly hair and the loveliest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Even though he would be considered highborn and privileged, Renly never treated his fellow soldiers differently, always with respect and fomenting camaraderie among the ranks. It was his views on equality within his subordinates that allowed Brienne to partake in the defensive exercises and prove herself worthy even was a female. In the end it was for naught, only making her a target for the men to bully and ridicule.

Her fingertips trace the scars on her forehead and the bump on her nose from cracking it against Private Connington’s head. He’d been the most aggressive of the lot, not caring she was an officer. He’d found her alone and cornered intending to collect on the wager pot, on who would get to fuck the ugly sow with pretty eyes. The rest of Colonel Tarly’s squad said it was all in jest, a way to pass the time and boost morale while waiting for the next insurgency of enemy fire. Corporal Hunt had found them and tried to call for help, shame at what their actions had mounted to. Brienne didn't need anyone to save her, finding the might within to proof she was no victim. She broke her nose hitting him purposely with her head, after his hands tore her shirt off exposing her meager breasts, that he forcibly grabbed and mocked, “This is what you call teats in cows, you don’t even have enough of a mouthful. Disgraceful, wretch.” 

She was bleeding profusely, but it didn’t deter her efforts to free herself from Connington’s hold. He’d punched and scratched her face, while screaming obscenities in her face, “You’re ugly bitch! No one will ever want you! Forget about your _precious_ Renly...He likes cock more than pussy even if you look like a man from the back. Maybe offer him your arse on your hands and knees... _whore_ yourself to him while never showing him your disgusting face!”

With a swift kick on his genitals, he’d crumbled and that’s how the Colonel found them with Hunt right behind, his gaze trying to show his remorse and somehow find redemption in his actions. Tarly had kicked Connington with disdain and then turned on Brienne as she tried to cover her chest, “You are dismissed, Lieutenant Tarth. You will report at sunrise to my quarters for debriefing. This situation will not be repeated...your _sex_ doesn’t belong in combat, as if stated _ad nauseam_ to my general. I don’t care what the higher-ups think. This will serve to show them the error in judgement allowing _ladies_ among my men. Get out of my face, Tarth! Hunt, you better be on your way to the barracks and not a word out of your fucking mouth, understood!”

Word spread anyway and found its way to Renly’s ears, who’d been furious and decided to approach her days after the assault. Their easy friendship began, in what Brienne hoped was mutual respect and admiration. The murmurings and glares stopped and there was no threat of retaliation against her after Connington’s reassignment to the Trident. As for the Tarly squad, only Hunt came forward and tried to apologize for the betting. She tried to brush it off, saying she knew his attentive actions were clearly a ruse and she didn’t fall for any of it. Internally, Brienne only felt her worst fears confirmed that she would always be rejected within any group she tried to be a part of, her physical appearance off-putting and her lack of femininity a barrier. 

Between boxing practice and her shift, the only saving grace was her time spent with Renly. He would seek her company at the mess hall, eating together and laughing at their lame jokes and memories from childhood. He’d ask about Tarth and what she liked most about her home, while he complained about being the youngest of three brothers and the expectations that being a Baratheon meant to him. 

Renly had confessed that he never really wanted to be a soldier, that seeing blood and death were slowly killing his spirit. Brienne’s reply had been that duty and honor were the bond that kept the Seven Nations alive and that every smallfolk that survived was worth every blood spilled. He had given her a small grin, that made her gasp as his hand found hers. “Thank you, Brienne. For your friendship, without you I would’ve already taken the easy way out and ran into the field asking for the Stranger to take me… I’ll see you later.”

Not much later, another rumor had been stirring the masses and found her a fellow nurse blatantly staring at her as they were doing the rounds among the stable patients. “Something wrong, Aella?” The mousy woman shook her head and scoffed, “I’m just wondering what they all see in you, Brienne. You’re not exactly a pretty girl and yet they all want inside your pants. It just makes you wonder how desperate the men get in these conditions...sorry for my bluntness. But seriously, you have a Baratheon ready to ask for your hand in marriage? What are my chances? I wouldn’t mind landing me a husband after cleaning vomit, shit and blood for what feels like ages.” Brienne felt her skin get hot with embarrassment at her words and the implication behind them. She didn’t give her anymore ammunition and kept her lips sealed. 

After her shift, she had to find Renly and confront him. She was risking her reputation, even with all the bet and the physical assault she’d suffered, striding into the officers’ quarters. Most of the men were having dinner and enjoying the peace however long it would last. She’d checked and seen that Renly wasn’t there, she decided to face him in private and find out what the rumor meant. She knocked twice, but music came from within the tent. Clearly he was inside, so she pushed the flap up and stepped in. What she faced would forever be etched in her mind, a soldier with blonde hair standing naked as the captain kneeled in front of him. The grunts and groans filled the space, as the music whirring in the background. Sweat stank and consumed the air, making her gag as her eyes welled with unshed tears. _She would not crumble, not here_. A gasp and whispered, “Brienne,” woke her from her stupor, “I’m so-sorry. I-I—” She fled, almost stumbling on her own feet in the direction of the nurses’ tent on the other side of camp.

Another nurse was there, Leonella Leffordone, who’d been married for a short while and lost her husband in the first year of the war. She was ironing her uniform, while smoking a cigarette made from sourleaf, only increasing the foulness brewing in Brienne’s stomach. She dashed outside and retched on the ground, with her eyes burning and her throat sore from hacking. The image would keep replaying in her mind’s eye. She’d been played for a fool once more and this time by someone she considered a friend. 

There was no need for words, not after what she’d witnessed. Renly pitied her ugliness and the teasing she suffered by men in general. He’d welcomed her naive infatuation, knowingly as it would keep her beside him hampering any lingering suspicions about his sexuality. If the rumor has any truth, it would imply that his plan had been to broker a _lavender marriage,_ a _beard_ in her as his female companion that would allow him to conceal his sexual proclivities.

A barrage of wounded kept the nurses working for hours on end, with shelling near by cutting out supply lines and leaving them to fend off with what they had, that wasn’t much to begin with. Brienne had stepped out of the OR, her hands shaking after she’d kept washing them over and over and still she felt the warmth of the guts she held in place as the surgeon tried to sew back the innards of a boy not much older than eighteen years old.

Sirens announced that an air raid was imminent and there was chaos all around, as soldiers and medics hunkered down. She brushed the tears down her cheeks, her soul aching as her world simply slithered from her hands. She was simply so tired and for the first time regretted leaving Tarth. His father’s eyes, the pain hidden in its depths, of wisdom and knowledge of old wars and death. Selwyn Tarth didn’t stop her, even if he knew what awaited in the war zone. And she felt compelled to write to her father and ask about home and her little brother, Galladon. Even if he’d been her father’s last intent to live again after losing Brienne’s mother, Selwyn never regained the _joie de vivre_. His father said that soul’s agony was incurable, when a part of it had been excised.

Her disillusionment couldn’t compare to her father’s everlasting grief for her mother, but something felt broken within. The wooden bench behind the makeshift hospital felt like a safe haven, hidden from the rest and still letting her witness the bedlam of warfare. For a moment, she felt tempted to pray to the gods of the past and beg on her knee to be delivered. 

_Let it all end once and for all. Please. Grant us peace and let the bloodshed cease. Let the innocent live and punish the oppressors for their heinous crimes._

Her eyes had closed in her concentration, failing to notice her failed hearing and then the painful popping and ringing making her scream. Hands on her face, a bright light and concerned eyes stared at her. She couldn’t understand the words. A bomb had gone off and half of the encampment was destroyed. Abruptly, a cacophony of noise invaded her head and she winced. It was too much, as the stench reached her. There were no winners tonight, or any other night. Torn limbs littered the ground, and rivers of blood turned dark as it mixed with the mud and soot. 

_Where is the honor in this war?_

Brienne must have been hollering, as a hand slapped her making her stop. Her eyes met her attacker, it was the head nurse, Major Roelle. “Get yourself together, Tarth. There’s no time for your theatrics. I need you to assist immediately. We need all able bodies. You’re not injured, therefore get sanitized properly and get to work.”

* * *

Lt. Leffordone dropped the IV and it crashed onto the floor causing a mess and a sound reprimand from the major. Aella kept sniffling under her protective mask, her hand trembling while she tried to give the correct instrument to the doctor. As for Brienne, she kept reciting a list of words: _Poise, Gracefulness, Gaiety, Politeness, Serenity, Discretion, Goodness, Wisdom, Purity, Selfless, Dignity, Kind, Loyalty_... to pass the time and numb herself from everything around her. 

Combat didn’t discriminate neither did death, as it was assured to all human beings. And yet, Brienne wasn’t prepared to stand by and see another stretcher being brought in with the mangled body of Cap. Renly Baratheon. Her eyes must have been deceiving her, having fallen asleep somewhere under the red leaves of a godswood showing her some harrowing vision never came to pass… His eyes had turned to hers, somehow he knew she was there and his hand twitched beckoning her to come closer. The doctor took off his gloves and left, as there wasn’t much to be done.

“Brienne...sweet, lovely Brienne, my darling. Let me look at your eyes and let them be the last thing I see before I take my leave—”

She couldn’t hold her sobs, her other hand caressing his cheek, “Shhh...be still, Captain. The doctor will be back and everything will be alright. You’ll be giving orders in no time and this war will end and I’ll be with you...I’ll be with you, R-Renly.” His hand squeezed and then let go, his breathing growing more haggard as his gaze turned glassy, “Oh, n-no my Brienne, you’re free. It was s-selfish of me to c-claim you-u—even if I intended to save us both from heartache and ridicule. It wasn’t right. I-I was lucky to have in my life.” He tried to sit up, but crumpled back as blood spilled from his lips. The Stranger was near and taking his reaping of the many that lay dying after the bombing.

Renly’s breathing got worse, as he coughed up more blood. Wheezing, he tried to speak again, “P-promise me something. Be brave and not close your heart. Not after this. Live for me. For all the boys that you have seen die here. Live.” Brienne leaned over him, her forehead touching his as her lips kissed him for the first and last time. When she stood over him, she closed his eyes and finally prayed like she never had before.

“I promise.”

She had survived the endless days of soiled sheets and shortage of surgical suture, until a letter came from headquarters discharging her from service and demanding her immediate presence back home. Her father was on his deathbed and as his oldest surviving child.

With little fanfare, Brienne said her farewells among the nurses and doctors and boarded a ship to return to the waters of Shipbreaker Bay and internally hoping there were no surprise storms on her travels. Little did she know that Tarth would be exactly what she needed, to smell the brine and stare at the sunsets and maybe, just maybe find a reason to _live_. 

* * *

  
  



	3. Riverlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Footsteps alerted him of company encroaching his space and he waited for someone to hopefully see him and choose to leave him to his most-needed solitude. Keeping his eyes closed, his heightened sense of hearing allowed him to listen as clothes were dropped to the floor and then a splash. A harsh intake of breath forced him to relent and stare at long legs that were connected to a nest of blonde hair. _Oh fuck._ His eyes lingered there and its owner fucking growled in retaliation. _A lioness._ Unbidden, his cock stirred and he hoped the steam was enough to shield his arousal. _Mine._

* * *

Gardenias invaded his senses, making Jaime inhale with relish. Cersei was nearby, probably secretly smirking at his facial expression. He could already picture her languidly resting on the bed of the room he’d rented for the next few days. It was a godsend having a few days off from his post and most of all getting to enjoy his lover. She’d made her excuses, leaving the children in the capable hands of their aunt. His fingers twitched in anticipation, already savoring the memory of the softness of her impeccable complexion. But most of all, he missed her eyes, the moss green growing darker as her desire grew within her, her penetrating stare always wanting and demanding of his surrender.

Jaime would willing fall to his knees and worship at her altar, his own private goddess, deserving of his devotion and love. He searched for his billfold and took out the notes to cover his drink. His cigarette had burnt out on the ashtray left forgotten, as his mind had gone elsewhere. Her strides purposely opened way, as instinctively people moved to make way. Her skirts left her toned calves exposed, while her cardigan offered modesty to her voluminous breasts. The red lipstick made his eyes linger on her lips, reminding him of her mouth and that time she’d taken his hardened cock teasing him with her tongue and making beg for release. It was a safe way to sate his lust and not leave her with an unwanted child.

Just as Cersei was about to sit, a loud bang made his eyes turn and see the explosion, particles as projectiles flying towards every direction. He knew he was screaming, trying to keep everyone around save from the imminent danger. He crawled on hands and knees in an effort to find her among the flying debris and the painful moans of the bystanders. When he got closer, Jaime found Addam instead, with a mortal wound exposing his belly. He grabbed a rag and held it in place. “Marbrand, look at me. Fuck! Addam, it’s Jaime. I’m here, man. MEDIC! MEDIC! We need a medic! Stay the fuck awake, Sargent. I won’t face your mother at your funeral. She’ll likely to cut my balls off for failing to bring you home alive and in one piece...Shit.”

Addam’s usually vibrant blue eyes had turned dazed, while his skin turned ashen with the blood loss. The only distinctive feature left intact was his auburn hair. There was scruff on his face and his lips had turned bluish. Jaime hands cupped his neck trying to rile him up, but it only made the soldier whimper.

“J-Jaime...I need a favor. There’s a letter I left for my  Jeyne. I won’t be able to see her again. Tell her...I’m sorry that I didn’t keep my promise. I love you, Jeyne...Will you—”

Jaime frantically pressed the cloth harder on the gouge, “You will tell her yourself, fat-head! You listen to me, this is an order. You live! You’re not allowed to fucking die on me! Not on this shit-infested hill among our enemies. We haven’t offed enough Targaryen sympathizers. Marbrand! Where is the fucking medic!” His eyes left searched around the chaos, and blue eyes stared back and once more he felt surrounded by light and so much peace. Everything quieted down, his heart and breathing settled. 

_ Please. _

“ _ Please, Major! Wake up! Sir! _ ” 

Foreign hands were shaking his shoulders, only now he was lying on his back and it was Podrick Payne looking down at him. 

“I’m up, Pod. I-I must have nodded off while waiting for your return.”

The young man gave him a cursory once over and then stopped, his eyes staring at his shoes. His cheeks reddened having been caught, “I apologize for waking, Major Lannister. I heard… your distress. I came by to let you know that dinner will be served at 1800 hours. If you want to freshen up, there’s a communal bathtub with thermal waters at Evenhall. It’s been said it can heal any troubles—”

Jaime chuckled, “Have you tried these miraculous waters yourself, Pod?”

He replied with a snort, “It surely helps with my chronic aches. After my injuries, I was told I would probably never recover the full use of my leg and will have a limp. But I have to say it beats losing it completely—I’m one of the lucky ones, sir.” Jaime grunted, his gaze turning away as he felt his throat constrict as his nightmare flashed before his eyes and Addam’s vacant eyes stared back and his blood turned cold in the Riverlands’ fields.

“Pod, if no one has ever said to you personally—I thank you for your service and loyalty. We’ve lost many, but we also prevailed against the  _ Great Lie _ and our brethren will never be forgotten. Their lives weren’t given in vain.” Brown eyes misted over and hands trembled, the former soldier was overcome with emotion, as his lips opened and closed without whispering a word. “You don’t have to say anything, son. I think I will take that bath.” With another nod, Pod left him alone.

Jaime sat up, his clothes rumpled and stinking of day old sweat. His right hand ached and he tried to stretch his fingers to alleviate the tug of repaired ligaments. The scars from surgeries and the burns will forever remind him of what he had almost lost. His room was simple with a full bed, a table with two chairs, a bureau for his clothes and a window with a spectacular view of the Narrow Sea or was it Shipbreaker Bay, he couldn’t say. Maybe he would ask the owner of the castle, the “lady” Brienne with the eyes.

* * *

The steam rose from the unexpectedly clear waters of the renowned thermal baths. The bottom of the man made pool was bronze-colored stone, smooth as the marble exported from the Tarth mine. Jaime dropped his head back as he reclined comfortably on the slab that made up the bench all around the tub. With eyes shut, he tried not to dwell on his disturbing dream and the fact that a particular set of eyes he’d only seen once had appeared. Especially, the effect of that piercing azure gaze had on his state of mind.

Only that his demons were not sufficiently appeased and it kept picking at the fact that he’d taken that R&R and waited for Cersei for two hours, never to show up. He’d ended up buying bought bottles of whiskey and drank his three days in a drunken stupor inside his room. Her letter had explained the reasons, always someone else was more important than him. 

This time, the twins were sick and she couldn’t leave them without a real justification. Even if they were his blood, Jaime would never be able to claim them never mind kiss and love them. He cursed the broken condom that had resulted in this calamity. Therefore, he’d considered undergoing a vasectomy as a permanent birth control. The nitty gritty was his spite against fucking Robert Baratheon got to be father to his children, Loren and Joanna Baratheon.

And Addam...fuck. His death had been a waste, another soldier dead in the fields of the Riverlands. A land mine maimed him beyond repair, as his guts spilled and his blood painted the land red. Jaime had run to him without thinking, others screaming trying to warn him off. Bullets flying, bombs going off, it was the soundtrack of warfare and nothing scared him anymore. It wasn’t hubris what drove him anymore, he simply had grown listless. 

More so, after the news travelled by the mail carrier saying that the talks were working and that peace was here. Col. Ned Stark and his northern soldiers had arrived in Riverrun to relieve the Westerlands troops that were stationed there to aid Gen. Brynden “Blackfish” Tully’s battalion, as the Riverlands had defected from being associated with the fanatical loyalists of the Targaryens and their murderous rampage across the countryside of innocents  _ en masse _ . These Stark soldiers were morose and dispirited, having seen the throng of graves of smallfolk, considered  _ impure _ by Targaryen supremacists, executed by poisonous gas or shot to death in the graves.

Only days before the official declaration of the ceasefire, Jaime came face to face with one of the most prominent Targaryen supporters, Cap. Garlan Tyrell, son of Mace Tyrell, known as brown noser of Aerys Targaryen and his cleansing methods. Out of ammo and separated from his men, the much younger man made the grave mistake of turning his back and thinking this would stop a Lannister from taking a life. Without hesitation, Jaime shot him in the back with Stark as a witness. The dour man stared him down and plainly stated there was no real justice in his act. Tyrell would’ve been taken as a prisoner and tried for his crimes as a Targaryen consort. 

Jaime’s eloquent response had been, “Fuck your justice, Stark. Let it be known, I’ve taken it for Westeros and for every soldier that has died waiting for this war to end. I’m just tired and in need for a proper fuck. Say your piece and let it be done. I’m not afraid of dying. It would be foolish at this point, it’s all around us. One wrong step...and it may be your last. So, no fucking regrets.” 

If he hadn’t been grievously injured while in battle afterwards, he’d surely been dishonorably discharged and stripped of his pension and commendations. The stain would prevail, as the North remembers and the Starks made sure Westeros knew what he’d done, a soldier without honor. 

* * *

Footsteps alerted him of company encroaching his space and he waited for someone to hopefully see him and choose to leave him to his most-needed solitude. Keeping his eyes closed, his heightened sense of hearing allowed him to listen as clothes were dropped to the floor and then a splash. A harsh intake of breath forced him to relent and stare at long legs that were connected to a nest of blonde hair.  _ Oh fuck.  _ His eyes lingered there and its owner fucking growled in retaliation. A _lioness_. Unbidden, his cock stirred and he hoped the steam was enough to shield his arousal. _Mine_.

“Mr. Lannister, I apologize for disturbing your bath—”

For a few seconds, Jaime debated if he should stand too, only he would be blatantly exposed. “I should be the one asking for your forgiveness, Miss Tarth. I will leave now, if you please—”

He expected her compliance and turned, only she stayed in place with no intended to cover her body from him. This dame sure as hell had moxie and damn if that didn’t make him harden even more. 

“Had enough, Mr. Lannister?”

Jaime unashamedly moaned at her defiance, “ _ Jaime _ . My name is Jaime, Miss Tarth.” With difficulty, he held his hand from wetting his whistle while she watched.

Brienne wasn’t impervious to the man and even through the mist, the man hadn’t concealed his predicament. Internally, she was shocked at his reaction to her nakedness. His green eyes kept staring and lingering, with an intensity that could be felt all over her skin, branding her and making her shiver even in this heated room.

“If you insist, then you may call me Brienne. I’m no little missy.”

Her words only made Jaime eager to engage, “Certainly, you’re all woman. And I find myself...so  _ thirsty _ .” Seeing her questioning eyes, he smirked at her innocence finding refreshing after years of being prey to the games of cat and mouse that were the predilection of the seductive huntress on the prowl.

“Is there a particular drink you’d like in your room? I’m sure we have whiskey, bourbon, and even a case or two of Arbor red—”

He shook his head,  _ oh I’m so fucked _ , “No, not what I’m in the mood for... _ Brienne _ .” And that’s when his blazing fixed stare gave her the inkling of his appetite. Her blushing all over wasn’t the result of the warmth of the waters, but her flustered state.  _ It can’t be, he must be mocking me.  _

Silence became their mutual companion, as their eyes remained locked in a stand-off. Jaime breathed deeply, scrounging for some control over his lust, “Have you ever heard the old-time song about the  _ Bear and the Maiden Fair _ , Brienne? What I wouldn’t give to be that bear right the fuck now…and  _ drink _ the honey from your hair.”

Her knees wobbled and she found herself sitting back on the bench, with her mouth agape and eyes wide open in dismay at his vulgarity.

“I’ll take it no one has asked for it before...alright. I can snap your cap another day and maybe you’ll see it my way then. Until dinnertime, Brienne.”Jaime pushed himself from the seat, brazen and forward, trailed out of the bathtub without looking back without a stitch of clothing covering him. 

Brienne’s eyes had watched him, admired his godlike beauty and could attest that even with the marks and scars of war, Jaime Lannister was the handsomest of men in all of Westeros. Hence making it even more absurd his lusty gaze and physical predicament for she’d been called the ugliest of women. A face covered in unsightly freckles and scars leftovers from the war and Connington. Much too tall for the men she encountered in her life, and her broad shoulders detracted from making her look dainty or thin. Straw-like hair that would never be glossy and voluminous. And her breasts were almost nonexistent with prominent nipples in a dark mauve shade, no rosy petals for her. 

Jaime Lannister was a conundrum with no viable resolution at the moment.  _ Maybe he’d suffered an injury that impaired his vision, or a head injury, something that explained the why of his senseless reaction _ . 


	4. Evenfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does it bother you much, Major?”
> 
> Green moss and spring came to mind, as his eyes met hers. His mouth quirked up, his signature smirk delivering his bemused facade. 
> 
> “Just a tad, Tarth. From what I gathered, you served as a field nurse to our wounded soldiers. I thank you for your dedicated service. I had one, she tried her best to keep me breathing… my comrade and best friend died right in front of me and I simply wanted to die, too. Survivor’s guilt, the doc said. I say more like this is my punishment for striving to join a war that only caused more deaths and we’ve left this country in disarray. What’s the point to breathe now? Everywhere you go you see the deep seated pain and distrust of the people you intended to save. And coming back to your home, your family? I have no home and no family left. Not anymore. Only one brother who deserves better than the likes of me, a disgruntled, crippled, old soldier. Can you pass me the wine, Miss Tarth?”

* * *

Jaime glowered at the face staring back at him from the cracked mirror. _What had he been thinking?_ It was so out of character for him to simply stare at a broad, bare to his eyes and so vulnerable and not stop himself. Although, the Lady of Evenfall had invaded his privacy first, he should’ve looked away and respect her as propriety demanded. 

Brienne of Tarth was a crate, and yet the _au naturel_ view of her sex had confounded him. As if he’d never seen one before, its treasures hidden under the wiry, darker blonde hairs. Even now his fingers twitched in anticipation, as he pictured the concealed folds drenched and swollen. His eyes now noticing the bulge growing in his trousers. 

_Fuck._

He’d amscrayed out that steaming tub without a backward glance, showing the goods. Sure he was a regular casanova, but he’d only been with Cersei and this...felt wrong. His burn scars weren’t enough punishment and his useless hand a constant reminder of his failings. 

_It should’ve been me, Addam._

The letters from Tyrion scattered on the desk more mementos of his past offenses. The words pounding in his mind, reminding him why he’d chosen the craven’s path. Even apologizing at this point wouldn’t never fix what had been done and set in motion. The Lannister Estate without a legitimate claim would be turned over to the next of kin deemed suitable, the assets divided among the living relatives. At least his aunt would benefit from his folly and his chunk as well with his pension will support his vices for sometime.

His father had made sure that only Jaime would be entitled to the whole estate, if he returned to Casterly Rock after the war ended. His younger brother had been stripped of any claim to the Lannister fortune, the last retribution of Tywin Lannister against his youngest son for being born and besmirching his legacy with every breath he took. The horrible secret Jaime harbored was knowing his father had funded the Targaryen claim, with their racial and social purity campaign aligned with his own prejudice. In turn, Jaime joined the Allies in retribution and caused his father to falter and change his position, after the political outcry of other influential houses. It would forever ruin his father’s reputation and bankrupt the Lannisters. After all the end justifies the means and Jaime intended to force his father’s hand by risking his life, as his precious male heir.

A sole tear slipped, Jaime remembering his little brother looking for answers, demanding a reason for their father’s disdain. “You killed mother...And father died right along with her. There was nothing left after. You being born different didn’t help either, Ty. Father and our sister’s hate towards you only increased with your outstanding wit and deliberate tenacity, little brother. If only-” 

A knock at the door brought him back from his recollections, “Come in,” he answered as he tried to pick up the mess. Once more, Payne had come to interrupt and probably announce that dinner was served. “Sir? I’ve come to show you the way to the dining room. Tonight’s menu consists of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes with butter and some kind of vegetable. There’s also fresh rolls, hot from the oven, and your choice of ale or wine.” The young man’s eyes lingered on the clothes left on the floor seeing the dark stains and knowing the major’s previous activities. His cheeks turned pinkish and he coughed in discomfort. 

Jaime grimaced, only for a second, there was no crime committed after all. He was a man and he’d only attended a very impending craving. If only he could pretend it’d been over a dilly and not the dog biscuit that employed the young chap. He hunched over and rubbed his tired eyes, “Pod, can you give me a minute or twenty...I need to clean myself up.” Without delay, the man left him alone, careful not to slam the door.

_Fuck._

_Lovely blue eyes._

_Reddened-tipped nipples._

_And dark-blonde hair…_

Jaime shook his head and sneered at his face once more, “You’re pathetic, Lannister. A naked giantess get you hard and ready to burst. It’s been too long and you need to control yourself.” After his self-inflicted admonishments, he washed himself and dressed for dinner. 

* * *

A large oakwood table with at least twelve chairs set the stage for the simple dinner. Steaming came from the plates already served, only two. Brienne stood over the head of the table, her eyes surveying the room. She was apprehensive of meeting the major again. Her face got hot, full on flushed at the embarrassment of having been caught naked with the stranger. 

Most of all, his reaction to her was even more disconcerting. No man had ever _looked_ at her that way. And his desire, well even through the concealment of the mist, she’d _seen_ it. His pecker, rising with intend; it was simply absurd. She had no womanly curves to gawk over. Her breast only consisted of large nipples and not much to grab onto. 

“Brienne?”

His voice made her shiver and gasp, as she had simply stopped breathing in her silly musings. _There’s nothing to fret about, stupid woman. He’s a man searching for something...healing like the rest of the soldiers that have wandered to the shores of Tarth. This is your calling now. Do your duty._

“Major Lannister, please you may sit wherever you prefer. I’ll be eating with you tonight.”

_Show no fear._

He cleared his throat, his eyes downcast and that’s when she saw his fidgeting and his right hand flexing.

“Does it bother you much, Major?”

Green moss and spring came to mind, as his eyes met hers. His mouth quirked up, his signature smirk delivering his bemused facade. 

“Just a tad, Tarth. From what I gathered, you served as a field nurse to our wounded soldiers. I thank you for your dedicated service. I had one, she tried her best to keep me breathing… my comrade and best friend died right in front of me and I simply wanted to die, too. Survivor’s guilt, the doc said. I say more like this is my punishment for striving to join a war that only caused more deaths and we’ve left this country in disarray. What’s the point to breathe now? Everywhere you go you see the deep seated pain and distrust of the people you intended to save. And coming back to your home, your family? I have no home and no family left. Not anymore. Only one brother who deserves better than the likes of me, a disgruntled, crippled, old soldier. Can you pass me the wine, Miss Tarth?”

Brienne scowled, “Call me, Brienne. Have you had a chance to see more of the property? It’s been in my family for generations. After my dismissal, I knew this was the only place I would feel myself again. My father was dying and requested my immediate return. I’ll admit I wanted to rebel and stay until the end...Now, I know that the gods were merciful and knew better. Once, I was left the sole owner for the Evenfall Hall it would be to continue serving our boys. This place has become a sanctuary and many have returned to their lives the better for coming here. Is that why you’re here, Major Lannister?” 

His fork fell from his aching, right hand and the clank of the metal hitting the wood made him jump back from the table. The chair tumbled, as he scrambled to leave, only a firm hand stopped him in place. Her face, all serene with her eyes shining in the faux candlelight of the grand chandelier allowed him to find focus. He grinded his teeth, his eyes locked on hers willing her to berate him and demand his most despicable truths. _Maybe one day, sweet thing._

Her lips were moving, but no sound reached him only the echoes of a memory. Jaime closed himself and felt the water surrounding him, as the shrapnel hit him all over and the screams and wails of his comrades drowned him. He was burning again, his skin melting and fusing with his uniform. The stench of flesh forever stuck on his nose and making him heave. From faraway, a voice was calling him. It wasn’t Addam. It couldn’t be. He was gone. His voice had gone forever silent. It was a woman’s voice. So gentle. 

“Major...Major Lannister. Sir? Can you hear me?”

His fingers touched her hand that had settled on his face, “Jaime. My name is Jaime. I’m so tired.. that my bones feel brittle and the burn it feels like it’s scorching from within. Let me drown in the purifying water that lives in your eyes, _Doxy_.” Her stare turned livid, nostrils flaring and her lips pressed in a thin line. He’d upset her with his underhanded moniker. Once Brienne knew he wasn’t about to faint, her hands dropped him on the ground and stood over him.

“Until tomorrow, Major Lannister. Have a good night.”

Jaime was now the one left behind in the room, with his throat parched and his quivering loins liking the challenge in her glare. 

_Fuck me hard, sweet thing._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thank you note to **ilikeblue** for saying the first 500 words weren't crap and to **JailynnW** for seconding and reading the next 500 words...


	5. Morne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Galladon...that’s a distinshing namesake. Are you familiar with the history of your name, Gal? Galladon of Morne was also known as the Perfect Knight, who was gifted the Just Maid by the Maiden and legend says he slain a dragon with it and only used it three times and never against mortal men. He was recognized for his valor and honor. Are you brave, Galladon of Tarth? You must be if you decided to knock on the door of the prodigal son of House Lannister.”

* * *

Lucy, her chestnut filly, snorted as Brienne brushed her flank. “Yes, I know you want your apple but first I must take care of your coat, young Luce. It’s unbecoming of lady to snort like that… You know better. Oh, Lucy if I didn’t have you for company in this place. I’m surrounded by boys and that hunk of heartbreak with his green eyes. We know better. Don’t we, my sweet girl? A _sad sack_ like me has to business thinking about Lannisters that look like Gary Cooper. There, just be patient. I’ll reward you.”

These were the best moments of the day for Brienne. She could speak her mind with her mare without feeling judged for her thoughts or feelings. She’d finished brushing and made sure there was fresh water, oats and hay.

She heard incoming footsteps and some grumbling that could only mean her Gal was up and already up to no good, as usual. “Gal! Gal! Come here!” He sprinted, an eager-beaver, to the stall and stood by the opening saluting her with his wink and a smirk, “Sis! Can I please? Pod said he’s the only one allowed to interact with the newbies, but I wanna meet this new major! Please, Bee! I can show him the ruins down the coast and the marble factory and the town and—” 

Brienne laughed her brother’s energy and felt a little guilty for keeping protected in their little piece of Tarth. After everything she’d witnessed in the war, she never wanted to take her eyes off him and shield his eyes from the cruelties of the world. He was all the family she had and it was her sole reason for being after surviving and returning home.

“You have to respect the major’s privacy, Gal. He doesn’t know you and many of the soldiers don’t take to strangers barging into their rooms unwelcome. But I’m sure if you’re charming and well-mannered, Major Lannister will be receptive to join you.” 

He did some jive steps and then jumped to sit on the highest rung of the ladder that gave access to the hayloft. She frowned at him, “Get down from there! Have you eaten breakfast, Gal? Go to the kitchen now! I don’t want you trying to steal some of Mrs. Goodwin’s porridge later.”

“But Bee, it’s the best!” 

Brienne shook her head and huffed, “I may not be the best cook, but you’re strong and healthy and that’s what counts. Besides, Pod helps out too and if he heard you… he’d be hurt.” His blue eyes stared into hers, “I’m no chicken, Bee. I’m going to meet this major and you’ll see. He’ll teach me about soldiering and things! I know you worry, but Bee I need to learn to be a man and help you. You can’t keep doing everything and besides what if there’s another war—” 

It wasn’t the first time they’d argued and she certainly couldn’t keep the realities of what had happened in the war. But the implications of his words, it felt like acid running through her veins. Her hands shook and the brush fell on the ground,as her heart started to beat faster and her breathing haggard.

“Bite your tongue, Galladon. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go to the kitchen. Now!”

He dropped from his perch with ease and scowled, reminding her of their father so much. “Fine! I’ll go, your highness!” Her eyes followed his movements, feeling her body sway and she found the stall’s wall as support. Deep breaths allowed her to calm herself and find some calm. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. That any mention of the past would drive her to hysterics and a swoony mess. One thing she did promise herself was that her brother would never set foot into a battlefield, even if it meant she had to serve again.

* * *

The bed creaked with his incessant movements, not finding comfort in any position. The light of day had made itself known and Jaime knew it was pointless to fight it anymore. Cold water helped him feel wake and clear his mind of the vestiges of his recurring nightmares. _Battle fatigue_ was something that afflicted some of the surviving soldiers. It was simply nothing anyone wanted to confess enduring. Jaime wasn’t an exception. He’d boarded a ship to sail away from mainland Westeros hiding his sorrows in a rented room on rundown inn that advertised itself as a safe haven for weary soldiers. The healer was running the place, a woman that could understand the plague underneath, the dying spirit of a fragmented mind.

It never occurred to him that said “curer” would be a former army nurse. One that stirred something he thought had died along with his Cersei. Just thinking her name and what his hands had seek. It made him feel wretched and itching for some buzz. He hated feeling anything, only seeking numbness. The towel fell from his grasp and just as he was bending to reach it a knock alerted him that he was about to be disturbed. _Fuck, it must be Payne._ He didn’t answer right away hoping whoever it was would get the gist and leave him be. It was not even nine in the morning. His eyes searched for any liquor in the room and hoping he could have a respite without being gawked at so early in the day. He got it, he was fresh meat in the hen house. 

A second, third and fourth knock was enough to make him stride and open the door and banged it against the wall with force. “What the f—” He met blue eyes, so similar to those in _sweet thing_ ’s face. Only this was a young boy with the same features, a relative perhaps. He was tall for his age, surely will be as tall or taller than her. His white teeth were showing as he smiled, “Good morning, Major Lannister! I’m Gal. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ll like to be your guide today, if you’re up to it. I can take you around the island to see many of the wonders of Tarth. And afterwards, if you’re not too pooped maybe you’ll tell me your war stories.”

His hands were fists at his sides, even as his right arm coiled and his scars whitened with the intensity of his grip. 

_Who the fuck did this schoolboy think he was asking about his war stories?_

Taking control of his emotion wasn’t his forte, so Jaime tried to divert the attention from himself. “What’s your name, _boy_?”

Galladon swallowed and for the first time felt admonished for barging in, thinking maybe his sister was correct in warning him off. His hands began to sweat and he tried to covertly rubbed them on his thighs and shirt. He cleared his throat and without overthinking met the stare of the older man and smiled. 

“I’m Galladon Tarth, and you sir are Major Jaime Lannister. We haven’t met yet and I decided to introduce and myself and offer my services to you on this your first day in Tarth.”

Jaime’s right hand began to twitch, the lingering effects of tendon damage and burns. He tried to shake it off and not pay attention to it most days. His scruff needed tending and he thought maybe the punk could do something useful for a change than run his mouth off. He hated chewing the fat with a stranger, anyway.

“Galladon...that’s a distinshing namesake. Are you familiar with the history of your name, _Gal_ ? Galladon of Morne was also known as the Perfect Knight, who was gifted the _Just Maid_ by the Maiden and legend says he slain a dragon with it and only used it three times and never against mortal men. He was recognized for his valor and honor. Are you brave, Galladon of Tarth? You must be if you decided to knock on the door of the prodigal son of House Lannister.”

The young boy felt flummoxed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, his blue eyes watering with embarrassment. Just as he was about to apologize, someone appeared behind him and touched his arm making him jump in fright.

“Gal… Major Lannister. I’m sorry that my brother has disturbed you this morning. He won’t be doing it again. Right, _Gal_?”

Feeling properly berated, he simply dropped his gaze to his feet and with a barely coherent mumble excused himself. Brienne knew it was hard for her brother not join others and learn about other places and people. He’d never seen anything beyond the coast of their Sapphire Isle. And she was grateful for that. She brushed his overgrown blonde fringe off his forehead and was tempted to kiss it, but refrained from further humiliating him in front of their new guest. 

“Off you go! Please, help Pod with the saddling and if you can maybe help put fresh hay in the stalls on the west side. No going off into town! I better not get word from Mrs. Goodwin gossiping about you and a certain girl…”

Gal took off running and didn’t look back. 

Jaime groaned and rubbed his stubble, while his eyes lingered on the figure of the dame occupying the space of her younger brother. “Oh _sweet thing_ , you have your hands full with that runt don’t you?”

  
  
“Pardon me? What did you call _me_?” Her face had flushed, as her hands at her thick waist beckoned him to peruse her unfeminine garb, a white shirt and dark pants with leather boots fit to ride. He didn’t answer her question and simply replied with another one.

“Do you ride, Miss Tarth?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. If it pleases you, Major, I’d like to extend an invitation to join me this morning after you break your fast, of course. No need to have you suffer the vapors and have need of my nursing expertise, most of all having a woman carry you back to your bed.” 

With a sharp nod and no time to waste, Brienne stomped down the corridor and left Jaime once more wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

* * *

His obsidian stallion was a beautiful animal. His hand lingers on its flank as his nose takes in the smells of hay and manure. It is a familiar smell, one that reminds of home and his father. The Lannister patriarch had enjoyed having his own thoroughbreds, the best in all of Westeros. From a very young age, Jaime had learned to ride and to take care of his bay, he named Lion. Cersei had made fun of him and his naming a horse after their house sigil. His aunt had smiled and pinched on his cheeks making him push back and tear up in pain. And Tyrion...well, his younger brother had been given a pony suitable to his height.

Thinking of his family, of Cersei and Tyrion soured his mood instantly. His horse seemed to be able to read his mood already and bumps him hard on his back demanding his attention, as his teeth take the hem of his shirt and begins to nibble. “Oh! Are you asking for a treat? Is this your usual game, eh?” His fingers rubbed the long ears, causing the animal to bray in contentment. Pod came by and gave him one long carrot, that Jaime presented to his mount on his open palm. Without hesitation, the horse began to eat it from his hand.

“Major, you’re good with Evening. I guess you’ve been around horses before, sir.” Jaime patted the horse, his eyes not meeting with the injured ex-soldier. “I was fortunate to have my own when I was young. I named my first one Lion. He fractured his leg, all my fault for not listening to my instructor. I had to stand and watch him shoot the animal. Afterwards, I never again named another horse, all of them die. _As all must die_.”

Payne answered with, “ _Valar_ _dohaeris_ . All men must _serve_ , sir.”

“We have served, Payne. And even if we still draw breath, we’re dead. The blood never washes completely off our skin. The screams never stop haunting us. And the dead...the dead come back again and again to remind us how we’ve failed them all.”

Using the stirrup, Jaime mounted with ease and used his thighs to steer the stallion into a gallop with the reins in one hand. Pod hollered, begging him to stall and wait for Brienne but he didn’t want to stop even if it meant getting lost in an island he’d never been in. _Let me drown, be swallowed whole by the Drowned God worshipped by the Ironborn long gone extinct._ If he was found worthy by the god may he grant him a second life with mermaids and eternal feasting. He knew he was being maudlin. I don’t believe in the Seven, Red priests which immolated themselves nor gods of storm and sea...Death is my only deity and he has left here. _Not today_ , the god had said in that field while taking his best friend. 

The wind whipped around, leaving salt and sand to abrade his flesh. His vision blurred, as tears fell from the corners of his eyes. It didn’t matter where his horse was taking him, this was only just passing time. He couldn’t return to Casterly Rock, not yet. Something needed mending and he needed to figure out how to feel less broken before facing his only family. _Forgive me, Tyrion._

* * *

Brienne sat on her saddle, allowing her mare to find Evening. Pod had come running and screaming that the major had run off galloping away on his own without waiting for her guidance and selecting the path for today. She shook her head and hoped she didn’t find the horse chewing grass without no rider on his back. Maybe he’d been bucked off and he’d fallen down, injured severely and laid unconscious somewhere. 

She urged her filly to go faster, only to have to stop abruptly as her eyes saw the major down the coast. He’d dismounted and left his horse peacefully entertained as he walked barefoot in the almost white beach on the east side of Evenfall. His hair was in complete disarray and his shirt left open, flapping in the wind. No undershirt covered his chest, allowing her to indulge her eyes on his scar chest, a testimony to his sacrifice and service.

Brienne almost fell off her mare, when the major began to guffawed having caught her ogling him. 

“Fuck, _sweet thing_. You only had to ask and I’d oblige. Come, let the lady and ser have their fun, while we wet our feet in the sea. You can tell me all about Evenfall and why you are stuck with your pest of a brother on this piece of heaven.”

There it was again. He’d called her not by her given name.

“Major—”

“Uh-uh, Jaime. Try it!”

She could feel the heat on her cheeks and evaded gazing directly into his direction as she walked Lucy and knotted the reins to the fence nearby, close to Evening.

“Mister Jaime—”

He shook his head, mirth on his face as he was enjoying making her feel humiliated, “Just Jaime, _sweet thing_.”

“Just Jaime, I have a name. You may use it. Not this _sweet_ anything. I won’t tolerate it any longer. I’m not your plaything, to mock and amuse yourself, sir.”

Her words were admonishment, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist using the moniker again. For now, he would relent and make a truce.

“Truce, Brienne.”

She smirked, feeling triumphant in their banter, “Do you trust me, Jaime?”

_With your tongue, with your lips, with your cunt riding me to oblivion, sweet thing._

“Yes, a fellow soldier, even if you were a nurse. I’d trust you with my life, Brienne.”

Her majestic eyes widened at his words, feeling her heart beating wildly at the implication of his statement. Major Jaime Lannister considered an equal and that was surely a first. She took shallow breaths and turned her attention to the waves. _Yes, this is heaven._

“I—I thank you, Jaime.”

His forest eyes glinted in the sunlight and his only response was a nod. Next he dropped his shirt, then pushed his pants off his hips and ran buck-naked into the sea foam. He let the waves take him in, freedom in the coming and going of the sea. There was no fear on his limbs, as he kept his eyes closed enjoying the sun kissing his skin. 

“Come in, _sweet thing_! You must know the pleasures of swimming naked in the sea. Let go, Brienne!”

With a little tugging off, she left her clothes hanging on the fence, leaving her brassiere and cotton undergarments on. The water was cold, but so refreshing against the heat of the rays that cooked the sand at this time of day. Brienne looked around, but no one ventured to this side of the beach being so close to Evenfall. Only she and her father when she was little would come here. This is where she’d learned to swim. She closed her eyes and could see herself standing by her father as he looked beyond the horizon.

She jumped in, letting the water take over and pushed to the surface forgetting that she wasn’t alone.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are more astonishing that the waters that surround you, Brienne?

Her feet touched the bottom, so her arms were not needed to keep her afloat. She crossed them in front of her chest, like armor. And for once she regretted not having longer hair to hide behind tresses that would shelter her ugliness from his penetrating stare.

“I meant no disrespect—”

“I know what I am, Jaime. I’m no dilly. I’m no beauty that the boys followed around. Only to be mocked, to make bets on, to win the prize. But this isn’t about me—this is about you. Why you’ve come to Tarth, Jaime?”

And it was his turn to wish for protection from her knowing eyes that could probably see the gaping, oozing wounds that had healed. The slashes of destiny against his soul and the deaths that marked his many failings. 

Cersei and their children. 

His father. 

Addam.

_Fuck._

The current shoved him in her direction and the impulse to steal a kiss was too strong. His arms didn’t take possession of her torso, only loosely at the sides, as his lips crashed against her chapped lower lip and his tongue invaded her gasping mouth. She had no time to react, to stop his assault. She’d frozen in place, barely breathing. Once having a taste, Jaime knew this would only encite him more.

His hands held her hips, to keep her standing being almost the same height was in his advantage. His eyes opened and he watched her as her own locked on his, brushing his lips against her cheek, Jaime whispered, “So when do you want to meet again in the warm baths, _sweet thing_?”

Brienne pushed him back, causing him to swallow saltwater and start to cough as she angrily strode out of the water forgetting that her undergarments were now wet and see-through. Even with the cold temperature of the water, Jaime was a captive of the sea if he didn’t want to walk around with his pecker saluting at half-mast. 

She was fuming as she redressed, “You can find your own way back, Major Lannister.”

_Fuck_!

She was back to formalities, while he stuck here. It was tempting to simply walk. She’d already seen him naked, let her see what she’d been missing. But he’d taken too long, Brienne had already left him behind.


	6. The Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime sneered, “You want to be a soldier, boy? Are you so blind to what you see everyday in your own home? We are walking dead men! Soulless, broken men with nothing and no one waiting back home! There’s blood on our hands that will never wash off! The filth under our nails, the bile gurgling in our stomachs, and the unrelenting death taking each and everyone in its path...you can’t escape the Stranger when he comes for you, boy . You’ll shit your pants, hide in your foxhole for days, while your platoon is decimated and you don’t think daylight will ever return. You want to be a soldier...I wanted to be one. [...] Now, I have scars that will never let me forget the cost of freedom, the lives of the people I loved… I killed a man in cold-blood, not in combat ‘cause I believed in that moment it would end the war. I’m a dishonored soldier, Galladon Tarth. You won’t find the history you’ve been searching with me. I’m a disgraced man. Get the fuck out, now!”

* * *

The radio was on, as the announcer proclaimed it was a tie between the eldest Baratheon and the heir of North for the position of _Prime Minister of Westeros Sovereign Republic_. Gal ate the jelly-filled sconce with relish and burped loudly. Pod guffawed at the youngster, internally envying his innocence, while Brienne admonished his lack of manners as she curled the rolling pin over the dough.

“Do you think that the major liked me, Pod? I want to ask him about the Rock...where there really lions underneath the castle at one point? Are they still there? Who’s feeding them? I—”

Brienne dropped the instrument and huffed, causing the flour to puff and cover the air around her. Pod cackled and tried to mask it with his hand, as he watched the siblings stare at it each other.

“Gal, what did I say? Stay away from Major Lannister. He’s our guest and...I don’t know what brought him to our shores. Yes, it’s the war and what it has done to our country, but I don’t know what’s wrong in his soul. It’s beyond the visible scars we can see with our eyes...and I don’t want you caught in the storm that you may unleash if you push him. Do as I say and do the chores I’ve been begging you to do. We can’t afford to hire more people, Gal. This is our livelihood. We’re all we’ve got and I need to feed you and everyone else in Evenfall.”

Gal glared at the marble floor and stood not answering back. His back was stiff as he strode from the room, supposedly to do his chores. 

Brienne sighed, rubbing her eyes, “Am I being too strict with him, Pod? I just want to protect him...I still don’t know why the major is here. I can assume it’s the injuries he sustained in the war, but something tells me it goes deeper; it’s his soul that needs mending and that tells me he won’t be an easy patient. He is lost...and my brother poking into his past isn’t the best way to gain his trust. He’ll lash out. Let him do it with me, I can take it. Gal is too young and full of ideas about the war and being a soldier. I don’t want to crush Gal’s ideals, but I sure as hell don’t want him to volunteer himself for the next one—”

Alys, one of the girls from town that worked in Evenfall, entered with the mail and dropped the bag of potatoes. Pod groaned knowing he’d be stuck doing KP, peeling potatoes the whole afternoon. The woman brushed her hand on his arm, the only sign that there was something going on between them. Brienne felt the heat on her cheeks and turned away letting them have their secret moment. Her hands found the correspondence on the table, her eyes locking on one particular envelope. 

It was addressed to _Miss Brienne Tarth_ , but there was another with the same penmanship inscribed to Major Lannister. Her hands became clammy and her heart began to pound in her chest, as she left the rest and felt compelled to find privacy and read the letter. She left the couple in charge of making the necessary preparations for tonight’s dinner. 

Knowing the ins and outs of Evenfall Hall, she was able to get to her father’s private chambers. The vast collection of books surrounded the weirwood desk. The armchair still smelled like him, tobacco and mint. It comforted her to spend her alone time here. As if she could hear and see her father give her history lessons of their ancestors, of times of kings and queens, of mythical creatures, of fire and blood...goosebumps rose all over her skin. 

One lonely tear fell from her eye as she immediately brushed it away and found the strength to hold it in. Grief had become her true companion. Like a shroud that she could never take off, it had become embedded in her blood and tainting her innards. 

_Miss you so much, Father. Please, guide me with Gal. I can’t fail him. Not again._

The letter opener with crescent moons and stars on its handle assisted her in breaking the seal. Inside was a missive impeccably written in longhand, not being able to hold the suspense Brienne searched for the name at the bottom, a _T. Lannister_ had signed it. The date at the top implied it had been sent weeks ago, but with Tarth being an island, the post always came in late. She knew that the mainland had telephones and telegraphs, that Tarth had been neglected in these advances. The inhabitants had been promised the eventual arrival of these marvelous pieces of communication technologies.

Another Lannister had written to her...and to the major. Her hands set the thick paper on the desk. It was only one page, but these words would be crucial in discovering the reasons why Major Jaime Lannister had taken a ship destined to the opposite side of the Westerlands, faraway from his family’s estate in Casterly Rock.

> _Dear Miss Tarth,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you before my brother, Major Jaime Lannister arrives at Evenfall Hall. If not, I hope you find the patience to deal with his mercurial state of mind. After all your reputation precedes you, having been the savior of many of our brave soldiers. It is why he has renounced_ **_everything_ ** _._
> 
> _Our family has suffered many losses. The war has torn our country apart, but we as Lannisters have been left at risk of extinction. Our father, our dear cousin and her twins were casualties, killed by bombings during the conflict. The reasons I won’t divulge here. I’m sure in due time, you’ll gain my brother’s trust and he’ll reveal it himself. The wounds still weep. They need to be cauterized, sealed shut for him to move on._
> 
> _Jaime still breathes, but mentally he’s still in that field where his best friend and comrade died. He suffers from survivor's guilt and having his right hand disabled isn’t enough punishment for him. He was diagnosed with battle fatigue by the army psychiatrist. Let’s just say the doctor had to sign his discharge papers for a very unfortunate incident._
> 
> _My brother joined the war under his own convictions. My father was originally a Targaryen supporter, believing in the cleansing and re-establishment of monarch rule. It was Jaime who defied him and faced being inherited to fight for what he believed, for a Westeros for all of us._
> 
> _I should have been killed in the cleaning, Miss Tarth. I’m one of those despicable things, deformed and unnatural and my brother’s love for me kept him from allowing such a thing. I served in the war effort in my own way, but he won’t forgive me for my one sin, information. That was my currency, his was taking blood, the blood of the enemy._
> 
> _I think we’ve paid enough, our whole country has. There’s fields full of it, drowned in the bones of the innocents. You’ve paid as well. I besiege you to_ **_see_ ** _beyond what’s visible and dig. He’ll make you want to strangle him. Give him hell, Brienne. If he fights back, then there’s hope for my brother and I’ll be forever in your debt. As a Lannister, that makes it a commandment to uphold._
> 
> _Best regards,_
> 
> _T. Lannister_

The words jumbled in her head... _battle fatigue_. She scoffed at the euphemism. Everyone alive after the war suffered from this so called “battle fatigue” and yet life goes on. She still had the night terrors, the blank eyes getting milky on Renly’s face. The screams and the silence. The phantom pain so tenacious that if she succumbed under it would keep her confined to her bed. Yes, Brienne knew very well what this condition did to the mind and body of a soldier. She had seen it in each and every one of her guests. 

She felt compelled to write her reply and opened the drawer to find a blank piece of paper and pen. 

_Dear Mr. Lannister…_

* * *

Gal had sneaked back into the kitchen and found that Pod was sufficiently occupied with Alys, peeling the vegetables for tonight’s stew. They were close together, whispering sweet nothings into their ears, a brush of finger on her cheek here and her hand holding his arm with care. It made him uncomfortable, so he took the stack and left as quickly as possible without disturbing them.

One of the letters was for Major Lannister, which would give him the perfect excuse to knock on his door and gain access inside and start a conversation. Gal only wanted to know more about the mysterious soldier and find out more about the mainland. He’d never sailed away from Tarth and that was one of his aspirations, to leave his home and visit the capital and see the North’s wall of ice claimed to protect the whole of Westeros from old doom. Brienne explained it was only icebergs, nature’s wonders nothing mystical about it.

Just as Gal was about to knock the door stood ajar and he leaned over looking inside. He saw the room was in complete disarray, used clothes on the floor, a broken tumbler, crystal shards, a wet towel and a milky substance splattered, but no Major Lannister. Pushing the door, Gal carefully stepped around the debris intending to leave the envelope on the nightstand for the major to find later. A grunt and groan made him scream and drop the letter in the puddle of spilled liquor. 

“What the fuck are you doing, boy? Don’t you knock before entering a room? I know this is your home, but this is currently my fucking room. GET.THE.FUCK.OUT!”

The teenager began to tremble, his eyes open wide in fright at the sight of the furious man wearing only his pants. Gal saw the scars, the burns that ran over one side and covered the right arm all the way to the hand. There was no hair, only the ropes of scarring tissue, the marks of war imprinted on the soldier’s flesh. For a split second, he felt tempted to ask how it happened and if it hurt him still, but he didn’t have time to utter one word.

“Are you deaf now? Have you ever seen burn scars? You must have seen many things by now. Your sister has opened her home to the dregs left behind by the Stranger. Captain Payne must have numerous scars of his own. Go pester him. He must be used to it by now. I’m no circus attraction. LEAVE.”

“L-letter, sir. I-I brought your mail.”

Jaime glared at the empty hands, “Where is this _letter?_ I don’t see it. Have you been spying on me, _boy?_ I don’t tolerate insolence from anyone. I have no problem instilling some discipline on you. It is clear your lack of proper parentage has left you to run orderless. It won’t do with me here.”

Galladon felt the tears about to fall, but held them back. If he cried in front of the major it would be a complete disaster. He would never be able to face the man again. His words felt like lashes against his back. The implication that his sister had been lacking in teaching him manners and self-control were completely wrong. This was solely his fault. She’d warned him to not poke at the lion and he’d been too impulsive and dismissive.

He knelt and picked up the letter, with shaking hands he held it to the major. “Here it is, sir. I apologize for entering your room. It won’t happen again. It wasn’t my intention to intrude...my beg you forgive me. My sister works hard to support us. She’s all I have and it would hurt her if you said she’s not done right by me. I failed her. Not her. She warned me about you and I refused to listen. Good day, Major Lannister.”

Jaime rubbed his face, in frustration. He looked at the mess and groaned out loud.

“Stop, boy. Come, I need your assistance to clean this pigsty. I’m getting too old, bones creaking and hurting. Don’t get old. Where is that statuesque sister of yours with her ocean eyes? Is she conducting her sword fighting classes with the children?”

He found a clean shirt and pulled over his head. It was Gal’s warning that saved him from stepping on the broken glass with his bare feet. That would’ve fucking hurt and he’d forced to stay of his feet. He nodded his thanks and found his shoes, wearing them without socks. He hadn’t brought much of anything with him and he would need to launder his clothes or simply go around in his _bathing suit._

“N-no. Brienne must have received an important letter and left Pod and Alys in charge of preparing dinner. I was doing some chores...and found your letter. I took the initiative to bring it personally to your door. I saw it as an opportunity to meet you and maybe find out stuff and offer my companionship to you. I can show you Tarth, the best places and others...that I’m not supposed to know about... my sister tries to protect too much. But I’ve heard stories from the soldiers...my only wish is that I get to fight in the next war and protect and serve with honor. Bri did it. I want to be a soldier, too!”

Jaime sneered, “You want to be a _soldier_ , boy? Are you so blind to what you see everyday in your own home? We are walking dead men! Soulless, broken men with nothing and no one waiting back home! There’s blood on our hands that will never wash off! The filth under our nails, the bile gurgling in our stomachs, and the unrelenting death taking each and everyone in its path...you can’t escape the Stranger when he comes for you, _boy_. You’ll shit your pants, hide in your foxhole for days, while your platoon is decimated and you don’t think daylight will ever return. You want to be a soldier...I wanted to be one. So, I signed my commission and was given rank above others. Boys under my command. I gave them orders and they followed them, blindly. I had that power. In return, you know what it got them? Rot and flies. Yes, there’s honor in fighting for conviction, for the sanctity of life, for the pursuit of liberty and prosperity of all men...I thought I knew what it all meant, once. Now, I have scars that will never let me forget the cost of freedom, the lives of the people I loved… I killed a man in cold-blood, not in combat ‘cause I believed in that moment it would end the war. I’m a dishonored soldier, Galladon Tarth. You won’t find the history you’ve been searching with me. I’m a disgraced man. Get the fuck out, now!”

The door slammed hard, rattling the frame and causing something to crash to the ground. Jaime wished for dope to numb and feel nothing. Maybe it had been wrong to come here, the nightmares hadn’t stopped and Tyrion had found him. Without even looking at the envelope, he knew it must be from his only brother. 

Using a knife, he pried it open and pages came out. Wordy fucking bastard, he thought. He squinted his eyes, remembering that his vision wasn’t what it used to be and that he should’ve gotten the glasses the doc had prescribed. He moved towards the window searching for better lighting.

> _Dear Jaime,_
> 
> _I’m sorry. There, I will say it first and get it out of the way. See, it wasn’t that hard? I love you and wished you’d stayed. Aunt Genna misses you terribly, you’ve always been her favorite nephew. There’s been too much death upon the Lannisters and we’re in danger of disappearing completely. Which means she demands us to make her a “grandmother” in lieu of the fact we’re all she has left in this godsforsaken world. Uncle Kevan was smart enough to leave things resolved on his end and with no Cersei to contest, I’m in charge of every aspect of the Lannister estate. Most of our cousins became casualties of war, Lannisters, Marbrands, Freys, Tarlys, Stokeworths...the list goes on._
> 
> _I know why you left. I can’t blame you for running away. You did your duty, brother. You bled for this land. For the lives of the people of Westeros. And I know from my sources that you saw what was being done to them...to the women and the children, to those that look like me. You and only you found the courage to disobey Father. I will never forget it. I live, Jaime. You live. Father is gone. Cersei is gone._
> 
> _The Resistance fought for everyone. I didn’t stop it. I let it happen and it was my only choice at the time. If I wanted to survive, I had to give them something substantial that would prove my loyalty. Tywin Lannister was a turncoat, who truly believed in the values and principles of the Targaryens and their axis of evil. As for Cersei, I can only say she died torn between being a Targaryen sympathizer and being the wife of a Baratheon. I couldn't protect her and her children suffered her fate, in the shelling attack in King’s Landing. The blast took out Baratheon as well._
> 
> _I know you loved our cousin, and her children. They paid the price, one that’s too high and unforgivable, all in the name of war and justice._
> 
> _As for you, I will let you be. Write if you want. I hate that you had to choose a place that has no serviceable telephone. I’ll miss your voice and you’ll be missing my jokes. Get fucking laid, Jaime. Your hand isn’t enough, much less yours with its diminished dexterity._
> 
> _Until we meet again,_
> 
> _Tyrion_

Jaime found the bottle and without caring about searching for another tumbler, drank directly from it and toasted to his brother’s long life, “May you live beyond your thirtieth birthday! You might be right, little brother. After all, you have more experience than me.” He needed a distraction from the eager beaver hounding him and find himself a ready Hedy.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. Gal kept his head down and gulped his food and asked to be excused. He evaded looking in the direction of the major, or his sister. He knew one look from Brienne would be enough for her to perceive what had happened. 

Alys touched his hand, giving him a smile and he tried to smile back. “Come on, Gal. Help gather the plates and I’ll give you extra cookies. Bri doesn’t need to know.” Brienne’s gaze stayed on the pair as they disappeared into the kitchen. Podrick talked with the guests, playing a better host than her. Another soldier had arrived, one that needed the use of the thermal baths and regrettably she knew.

“Brienne, it’s so great to see you again. You were lucky to leave the camp when you did...after the bombing that killed Baratheon and your discharge, I never got to—”

Ice cold water was running through her veins and then turning into lava, Brienne knew that her face had turned blotchy from the anger. Fucking Hunt had to find his way into her refuge and expect what exactly— a warming welcome from her?

“You knew Miss Tarth, Sgt. Hunt? From before?”

The former soldier gulped his drink, his eyes never leaving Brienne, while his mouth opened and closed, “I was stationed under Captain Renly Baratheon. A shell attack near the aid station where Brienne was assigned. I believe my captain died with her. They were good friends...more than that if the rumors are—”

The major abruptly stood, dropping the napkin and staring at the woman, her face blanched off all color at the mention of the dead captain. It confirmed his suspicion about this soldier and his unwanted presence.

“Hunt, I think you should come with the boys. We’re going into town tonight. See the sights, enjoy the nightlife on this beautiful island. What do you say, Sergeant?”

Blue eyes trailed his movements, as he beckoned the man to follow after him and Pod nodded, letting her know he’d watch over the group for her. Taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes and momentarily she was back there, deaf and blind. The smoke, the blood and Renly gasping his last words to her.

“Bri?”

Her eyes opened and there he was, her reason for returning home. Gal had been acting strangely, dodging her all afternoon.

“Yes?”

He entered into the dining room with a plate full of fresh baked cookies, flavored with ginger, cinnamon and topped with walnuts. It was his way of asking forgiveness for something he’d done.

Without words, Brienne opened her arms and found herself surrounded by all the love in the world in that embrace. Gal held her, as silent tears fell down his cheeks. She knew he didn’t want anyone else to see. Sitting together, they ate the treats and nothing else came between them. His face was clear now, his shoulders no longer hunched in.

Tomorrow, she'll face Major Lannister.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I caught all the Captain Lannister, I keep downgrading his rank *lol* Sorry! Thanks for reading!


	7. NOTE - not an update...

* * *

This isn't an update.

Sorry, for the inconvenience, but _pandemic brain_ is a real thing and I haven't been able to get **Chapter 7** finished and find the direction I want for this story. I want to be as faithful to the 1940s post-war as I can be within a Westerosi world as I can and it isn't easy; I hope that I don't get stuck and be unable to finish this story.

Thank you for reading and leaving kudos for this story that's almost to a 100 and I don't have too many of those. 

**Take care and be safe!**

Ro

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for JailynnW - as being my faithful reader. Hope you like it! 
> 
> Thanks to ilikeblue for giving me direction... I thought I was truly broken after my _Labyrinth_ endeavor, writing pretty much nonstop for a week and finishing it!
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving me comments (if you like) - kudos are welcome!


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